


Believe

by MaddieLys



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: After episode 8, Fluff, How I desire episode 9, M/M, MY BABIES, Makkachin is too cute to die, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Translation, Victuri, What the hell I'm doing here, english is not my first language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-02 23:05:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8686963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaddieLys/pseuds/MaddieLys
Summary: This is how I wish the next episode would be: Yuri runs back home after competition to to take care of Victor.Basically, it's fluff, nothing else.I had to do it, just for Makkachin.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, people.  
> I'm here again.  
> I know, I abandoned the Clastian project and I'm unforgivable, but I swear I'll finish it, sooner or later. Probably later.  
> Anyway, I'm here with this two, 'cause they are too cute. I had to write something for them (and for Makkachin, my cute baby) and so I did.  
> I wrote this in italian and then I translated it in english. I hope I haven't done a mess. I'm still learning, but I tried. Thats my only excuse. So I apologize for every mistake and I hope you could help me to improve, if you have time to spare.  
> And so that's all. Enjoy (I hope!) the reading! <3

It was time. It was _his_ time.  
He took a deep breath. This was his first performance without Victor, yet he had less fear than he believed. The thought of his coach in Japan, at the bedside of Makkachin, somehow gave him strength. He’d have skated for himself, but also for him, not to disappoint him. He could reach the final and make him proud even though it wasn’t here to hug him.  
In its place was Yakov, frowning. He’d agreed to be his coach for that day, but he didn’t hide how much he considered it inappropriate. He’d been very clear on that point, before almost kick Victor out of the stadium.  
Yuri smiled. “Thank you for this opportunity.” he said, bowing to the Russian, who muttered a protest. After all, he told himself, that hardness was simply his way of expressing affection for his athletes. And at that moment was his turn to prove something, to Russia, to Victor and to himself. He took the position, closed his eyes and convinced himself that his coach was watching, perhaps through the screen of a smartphone. It was his last conscious thought. The music enveloped him and everything else disappeared. They remained ice, notes, and his body, circling gracefully between the fingers of fate, with the assurance that all would be well. It was what he wanted to convey to Victor: all would be well; he’d land without falling at the end of each jump and Makkachin would be healed. _Have faith. You just have to believe it, nothing else._ he said with the body and with the final smile that he gave to the camera. He could almost see the coach who smiled back at him.  
The physical distance, after all, was just a detail.  
He lowered his arms cautiously and took a deep breath, as he left the track. The adrenaline made him tremble, and the fact that he was unable to vent as usual threatened to break his delicate nerves, but the strong presence of Yakov at his side shook him.  
“You did well.” the Russian said, in English that betrayed the strong accent of his native language. “Come.”  
He obeyed, unstable in that sea of emotions that separated him from the rest of the world. He managed to sit down before the legs give way and had to double-check the score before he could believe it. The ears were ringing. It was really _his_ , that outcome?  
‘Yes,’ Victor’s voice said in his mind, sensual as only could be, ‘it is. You earned it.’  
He shivered, unable to decrypt what Yakov, at his side, was saying. He’d have to thank him a few more thousand times, for the way he was saving him looking like an idiot in front of the whole world. At that time he was totally unable to answer questions. He could only think of Victor, who perhaps hadn’t quite touched the smartphone and was taking place in the lobby of the clinic, who would never say those words, and yet he was still there with him, to give him strength. He was forcibly resumed only when Yakov took him by the elbow and dragged him away.  
“Have a drink, sticks your head under cold water, or whatever. Put yourself together, for heaven’s sake.” he ordered harshly. “I’ll not save you again.”  
The skater blinked and took a breath. “I-I... y-yes.” he stammered, red-faced. He had the time of JJ’s exhibition to make peace with his soul gone mad, before they’d announced the final standings. He’d have been on the podium, he was sure, so he had to go lucid enough to keep up with the journalists. He was eager to take the next plane to Japan and run to hug his coach – and, he hoped, even Makkachin. His heart was breaking at the thought that the poodle could die, but he had to be strong and believe in his own words. He hadn’t fallen, so the dog would be healed. He washed his face with cold water, slapped his cheeks and mustered all his courage to return to the rink.  
They were just about to announce the winners.  
The Russian coach glared at him, perhaps because had taken too much, and motioned him to come closer.  
He obeyed. His heart was beating faster than ever. He was sure to hear it explode when they called him on the podium with Yurio and JJ. He felt a slight twinge at Victor’s absence, but he held it at bay. They would still celebrated together, just later.  
Yurio gave him a look of fire, but could not escape his hug, once off the rink.  
“I’m really happy to challenge you in the final.” Yuri said he exclaimed, with the same enthusiasm that Victor would use. He was dying with anxiety, but he had to be strong for a while yet.  
“I’ll crush you, pig.” the youngest retort. “And now get lost.”  
Yuri didn’t hide a smile. He hugged him again, thanked Yakov and ran to the locker room with his heart now struggling to remain in the ribcage.  
 

*

He took the first flight of the morning. With bags under the eyes, swollen with fatigue, he seemed a panda, but he was able to be lucid enough to buy a ticket, check-in and boarding without tripping over his own feet or in the suitcase.  
The plane hadn’t made even a one second delay, the trip was quiet and landing went smoothly, yet he thought he had taken too much to reach Japan. The journey from the international airport to home was unnerving to say the least. Every second was as long as a year, with his heart that threatened to get out of the chest and go ahead on the way to the onsen. But in the end he had arrived.  
Yu-topia’s worn insignia was in front of him.  
He swallowed, gripped the handle of the suitcase and went in.  
Victor was’n there.  
“He’s in his room with Makkachin.” Mari told him. “He’ll still sleeping.”  
“Poor thing, he had to be exhausted.” said his mother, who had taken him to heart as if he were a family.  
Yuri took a breath. If they could take him home, it meant that he was well, no? _Or that there is nothing left to do._ He shook his head. He had to think positive. He had nothing to do but wait, so he dragged the suitcase to his room and put on a clean suit. He had slept for the whole trip, exhausted from the race and from the few hours of sleep the night before, yet he didn’t feel rested. He flopped on the bed and closed his eyes, but sleep wasn’t enough to win the anxiety. All the stress that he had suppressed before and during the race exploded at once and at that time was devouring him. He wanted to see Victor and be sure he was all right. It was his only thought. He stood up quietly, but he met his coach in the middle of the corridor.  
He looked destroyed, and yet he smiled when he saw him and for a moment – just a moment – seemed the usual Victor.  
Yuri suddenly hugged him. He blushed, in realizing it, but don’t let go. “How is Makkachin?” he whispered against his shoulder, in the familiar scent of that hot body.  
The Russian smiled and squeezed him back. “He would manage.” he assured, tired, but serene.  
The young skater hesitated, but he forced himself to let him go to see his face. “And you? How... how are you?”  
Victor thought for just a second, the time to cross his brown eyes. “Better, now.” he answered. He hugged him again and remained so for a few seconds, almost had to make sure that it was real contact.  
Yuri didn’t interrupt him.   
“I saw the live broadcast.” his coach whispered.  
The skater’s heart skipped a beat and ran like the day before.  
“I’ve never been more proud of you.” Victor murmured. “You’ve been... brilliant.”  
Yuri blushed and hid his face in the crook of his neck. “For you.” he whispred, so softly that, maybe, deep down hoped he wouldn’t be heard.  
Victor lifted his face. “I know.” he said. “I felt it.”  
The youngest man shivered and he couldn’t hold back anymore. He kissed him. The world disappeared instantly from his perceptions, as during the Cup of China. There was just Victor, warm and solid against his body, hugging him as if time had ceased to exist.  
It was a kiss slower of the first, deep in ways that neither of them would have been able to express in words. There was relieve to find and hold on to each other, as if one of them were to suddenly disappear, but above all there was the irrepressible warmth of the feeling that bound them, so intense as to make it almost hurt.  
“I love you.” they whispered, almost at the same time. They smiled. And they kissed again, regardless of being in the hallway – not exactly the most discreet place in the home.  
Yuri remembered firs. “V-Victor...” he muttered, again flushed. “W-We’re... we’re...” he mumbled, but he didn’t break away from him.  
The Russian stroked his back and chuckled, before dragging him back into the youngest’s room.”Better to let Makkachin rest.” he said, with a grin, and returned to capture his lips in a greedy kiss.  
The skater fell onto the bed with him and didn’t object when his lover’s pale hands lifted the sweatshirt and the shirt, but the first groan changed his mind. “M-My parents are at home...” he moaned. “W-We s-shouldn’t...”  
Victor caught his sight. He had shiny eyes, hidden in part from the eyelids, and moist lips parted in a slight smile. He was always beautiful, but at that moment he was _sensual_. “You’re right.” he whispered, hoarsely. “We shouldn’t.”  
Something roared a protest in Yuri’s chest. They couldn’t stop, not when every fiber of his body was on fire, and he craved Victor so much. He had no idea where that hungry and ferocious beast came from, but she was right. He kissed him again his coach and imprisoned him between his legs to keep him from getting up. “We should just... be quiet.” he panted. _If that were possible._  
Victor grinned. “Quiet.” he repeated. “Of course.”  
They could try, at least. Succeed was not included in the price, though.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so you're here.  
> I'm glad. Thank you, really. It makes me really, really happy. And a biiiit embarassed, like Yuri the first time he has seen Victor ~~naked~~. I'm terrified at the thought that this one-shot sucks. If you made me know it doesn't, maybe I'll not die of spontaneous combustion in shame. Yes, I'm an emotional little person.  
>  And now I'll be quiet, 'cause I just said too much, right?
> 
> If we shadows have offended,  
> Think but this, and all is mended—  
> That you have but slumbered here  
> While these visions did appear.  
> And this weak and idle theme,  
> No more yielding but a dream,  
> Gentles, do not reprehend.  
> If you pardon, we will mend.  
> And, as I am an honest Puck,  
> If we have unearnèd luck  
> Now to ’scape the serpent’s tongue,  
> We will make amends ere long.  
> Else the Puck a liar call.  
> So good night unto you all.  
> Give me your hands if we be friends,  
> And Robin shall restore amends.


End file.
